The Puppet Master's Doll
by Dorobouhime
Summary: Kisa remembered her first doll like some people remembered their first day of school, like some people remembered the pages of their favorite book, "Art is everlasting, little one." he had whispered as he placed the bundle in her hands.
1. Memories

Kisa remembered her first doll like some people remembered their first day of school, like some people remembered the pages of their favorite book, she found comfort in the memory when the world got too heavy and joy in the memory in quiet moments. As she stood in the courtyard waiting for her one true, eternal love to return, the memory was so sharp it was as if she had gone back in time.

The cherry blossoms had bloomed early that year, early enough so that there had been no need to decorate for her March third birthday party. Instead, the festivities were held in the courtyard among the delicate pink trees. Mom had made all her favorite foods and family friends from everywhere had been invited. Kisa remembered how grand she had felt, being the oldest child of one of the most respected clans in the land of fire. To many, her and her siblings represented a new golden age for shinobi everywhere.

Kisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quell her own fear, she had never much cared what the world thought, but family was different. She knew that they would be hurt, even if no one let it show. Mom and Dad wanted nothing more than for her live the most average, prosperous life possible. They never wanted her to feel the pain of being the odd one out for one reason or another. But with all that she had learned since that day nine years ago, how could she just marry some other ninja blueblood and get on with her life?

"Haha! Kisa is nine already?" Konoha's Rokudaime had laughed loudly as he slapped her father on the back, "It seems like just yesterday you and Fai-chan were just a couple of delinquents back in Konoha!"

"Jellyfish was never a delinquent." Mom had said matter-o-factly, using her pet name for Dad. Kisa remembered the slight smile that had played over her lips as she had exchanged a look with her husband. Now, after so many years she knew what it meant, how it felt.

"Well you know! Being an Uchiha, he was a delinquent the day he was born!" The Rokudaime winked and nudged the younger man playfully." Somewhere across the table someone gave a derisive snort and a heated debate began. Kisa watched as both of her grandfathers joined in. Grandpa Deidara on one side with the Rokudaime and Grandpa Sasuke quietly but angrily defending the honor of his clan. It was a little funny to watch, but that was the moment Kisa had lost interest. Old times were important, they were the reason everyone could come together like this, but they were not related to her world. She would never be able to revel in those victories or laugh at those mistakes. To her, everyone was as they were in the moment. Nothing more, Nothing less.

Quietly, she surveyed the gifts that surrounded her. A new art set, from Dad, a set of steel senbon, from Mom, Mom's clan in Iwa had sent some expensive silk kimonos and a nice note from Katsura-Baachan. Grandpa Deidara's colorful and explosive present had already blown away on the wind. There was also candy from the Rokudaime; but Kiyoshi, her younger brother, was sullenly devouring it. Kisa didn't mind much, though she thought it was a bit rude on principal.

The wind picked up and petals began to rain down. Kisa looked up at the pink branches and felt her eyes sting. It was a good birthday, but she felt so sad. It marked the end of being truly carefree. Soon she would leave to train in Konoha with other kids her age. Mom said she'd make lots of friends and that it would be so fun she wouldn't want to come back. But still...

"Why so unhappy?" An almost unfamiliar voice asked her from above. It was smooth and beautiful but didn't carry more than the slightest echo of emotion. A red-framed head caught the sunlight as it leaned over her upturned face.

Kisa had never much cared for human appearances, she had always preferred to document the majesty of the natural world through pen and ink, but as she looked upon the breathtaking young man, she was in awe. Not even the cherry blossoms could outdo the immaculate lines of that face, not as it looked down at her expectantly. In that single moment she was swept away by the serene and amaranthine beauty that dwelt in and around those stone colored eyes. Her hands reached up of their own accord, being drawn as flowers were to the sun. How she longed to somehow know that splendor as well as she knew her own heart.

With the softest _click_ the face tilted to the side and an expression of amusement loomed softly without unraveling the lines of its art. She reached farther but, from where she sat, her fingers only met empty air. There was a moment of realization when her action failed. She had to say something, she had to justify her futile reaching.

"You're so...", She started in dazed explanation, "beautiful.." The young man looked down with the same soothing grace as a statue she had once seen at a temple. But it was different, more real, it created the spectacular illusion of what life should have been and would always be. "like a doll..." She finished with the rapt but unclear whisper of someone under a spell, "Like a great, big doll..."

He smiled and placed a long but delicate bundle on her upturned palms. "Art is everlasting, little one." he whispered, "Never forget that." and with that he drifted away and the spell was gone.

"Sasori no Danna! You made it, un!" She heard her grandfather exclaim but the moment was gone and Kisa wouldn't chase it.

Instead she turned her attention to the precious gift in her hands. The white paper wrapped loosely around the vaguely human shape made it resemble a corpse sleeping within a shroud, but as the gauzy cover fell away the girl was once again enchanted. There, peacefully sleeping, spread between her palms was the most beautiful version of herself she had ever seen. It hair was tied up to the side in a dark blue ribbon, just like her own. It's tiny hands lay down at its sides, peeking out from the sleeves of a newly made kimono that was just a bit too big for it. She tried to flip back one of her own too-long sleeves and marveled when she realized that the pattern was also the same as her own kimono, right down to the placement of each flower.

_Snap_-- She was brought out of her memories by the sound of a door quickly sliding open. She looked up to see her father in the doorway, "Kisa," He said softly and she could hear the weight under the usual kindness in his voice, "Wont you come in and give us the pleasure of your own words?"

**((Heh! That was fun! So~ this is actually something of an omake to another Naruto fanfiction me and my friend are making. Suffice it to say, a lot of people don't die in ours (thus all the people that should be dead hanging around)... Though there are reasons besides just our fangirlish nature...and there are a non-inconsequential amount of OCs... though arguably they are the offspring of real characters so err its uhh better? =.=;; LOL we basically put our favorite OCs' child with Sasori cuz well... he's preeettttyyyy and it makes for drama! If you actually care about the back story of the peripheral characters, tell me in a reveiw and I'll post it, but otherwise, please just enjoy this in the moment! The focus will mainly be on Sasori and his Sasori-ness Oh and uh I'm sorry if the canon-altering offends anyone but really, would fanfiction be any fun if we all just rewrote the original plot!? Anywaaayys please review and have a greaaaat day!))**


	2. Convictions

**-sigh- The more I write this, the more I am forced to come to terms with the fact that there is more story than 3 shot's worth... So I shall simply continue to write this until it is finished!!Woo~ anywaayss sorry there isn't more of everyone's favorite pretty puppet-boy! I had to establish a bit of context... But I did draw a picture that includes said PPB!! I highly encourage you to copy/paste this link ( http : / / i640. photo bucket. com/ albums/ uu122/ Oridesu/ IMG_1959. jpg ) and remove the spaces to see it! Sadly its it poster-sized so I had to take a picture of if it with a digital camera instead of scanning it so it is not done justice.... Though I sure hope I did Sasori justice~ though of course i had to draw my OC too~ She is part of THIS story after all~ Anyway~ please reveiw!?**

"Neechan!!", Jirou-chan was on his feet in a second, "Y-you can't be serious!?" He had always been her favorite little brother, he was childish and obnoxious, but pure hearted. He wasn't like Kiyoshi, a pompous brat no matter how you looked at it.

She gave him a cool look that made it clear how serious she was. He stepped back, an unmasked looked of confusion and hurt. His lower lip trembled. That crybaby, she thought, her brother was the only sixteen year old guy she knew who would still burst into tears on a regular basis, what'll he do without me?

"B-but Neechan!! He's so..." He looked around the room searching the faces of the rest of the clan. Mom and Dad sat at the center, their faces molded into stoic masks.

"Jirou! Sit down." Dad's voice was more severe than anyone was used to.

Kisa's hands began to shake, she had never heard her father so angry before, and the worst thing, it was her fault. She had to hold back tears, she had always been the good girl, the one that never caused trouble. She almost jumped when she felt that cool hand touch her shoulder and there he was, her Angel of the red sands, she focused on his face letting his calmness sink into her own consciousness. She gave a halfhearted smile and touched the hand on her shoulder, she felt the smooth lacquer under her fingers, Kisa knew it was merely a gesture done for her own benefit, that the one she loved couldn't feel her body heat, but still, she was comforted.

She turned to her parents and waited for them to speak, a new resolve coloring her eyes.

...

As the year wore on, that doll had become her closest and most beloved friend. In Konoha she had indeed met many nice people, but it wasn't home. There were none of mom's home-cooked meals, and no study time with Dad and no playing with Jirou-chan. Heck, she had almost missed Grandpa Sasuke and that jaded look he always gave the world.

"Little Kisa" as she called her treasured friend, had been her only familiar comfort. The doll always knew her the best, because, after all, she was the best of her. Every time she got a new outfit, she always made sure to make an identical one for her friend.

However, most of the time, Little Kisa stayed in her box, she was far too precious to share with Kisa's silly Konoha friends who would treat her like a toy. But sometimes, at night in her lonely dorm, she would talk to the doll and make her dance, walk, and play with chakra from her fingertips. In these moments, Little Kisa was alive. The doll was cute and quick-thinking and always said what she thought. She never let people like Uzumaki Keiko make her feel plain and dull...

On the few trips home, Kisa would always keep her eyes out for the beautiful man that had created her better self. Once, she asked her mom and she had gotten a complicated look on her face. "Please don't ask me again," She had said, "Uncle Sasori and this family have now gone separate ways."

...

The head of the Uchiha clan scrutinized his daughter. His eyes connected with hers for a second, but they quickly drifted away, the line of his mouth going harder. He said nothing.

"Kisa, you told us that you were training in Suna with Kankuro-sensei." Mom's voice was strong, but the sadness and disbelief was easy to hear.

Kisa inhaled, she took a second to savor the piney, incense-like smell of her family home, She took each breath as if it was a countdown to her last, because it was. What could she say to her mother? Nothing would satisfy her once she knew what was to happen.

...

"Hey everyone, let's quiet down!" Sakura-sensei's overly cheerfully voice had cut trough the din of the morning. A few boys stuck their tongues out at her back, but everyone knew that they were tempting fate. To make Sakura-sensei angry was both scary and easier to do than one thought. "Today we have a guest speaker, all the way from the village of sand~ I want all of you to know that you are representing Konoha to the rest of the world today! SO YOU BETTER BE GOOD!"

There were groans all around the room. "I liked it better when we just fought the other villages..." Someone behind her whispered. Kisa bristled a bit. Ignorant comments like that really pissed her off. She was technically not a citizen of Konoha either. her clan had been banished. That's why the Uchiha compound had been rebuilt in the wilderness. For some reason, though, Konoha seemed to still lay claim to the ancient clan, so dad had been sent there to earn his headband and she was allowed to live there and go to school, provided she didn't cause trouble.

Which of course she didn't, Kisa was top of the class.

Though, when the guest walked in, she couldn't help grin a bit along with the twitters of her classmates. The ambassador from Suna was dressed from head to toe in black and his face was covered with some rather silly looking purple stripes over white face makeup. He introduced himself as Kankuro of the sand village and looked from face to face as if being in the classroom full of nine year olds might have been just a bit less fun than getting a root canal.

Kisa caught him glance at Sakura-sensei, Maybe a hope that she would let him off the hook, but from her he merely got that twitchy grin that meant "do what I say or else". That poor ambassador... Kisa thought.

"AHEM!" He cleared his throat deliberately, "Today I will teach you about the traditional art of puppetry, It has existed in Suna for hundreds of years..." He droned on mechanically looking at the back wall as he spoke. The tone was mind-numbing but Kisa realized that the information it portrayed what exactly what she had always wanted to know. Apparently, since ancient times, the Ninja of the sand had been perfecting the art of puppetry in combat. They made them move with focused strings of chakra projected from the tips of their fingers. Kisa had clasped her own hands together knowing just how it felt to make something inanimate come to life beneath your hands. At the end of the speech, the ambassador brought out a large puppet with skinny arms and legs. Kisa was a bit disappointed that it wasn't beautiful, but she was so caught up in the realization that she could learn to fight with puppets that it didn't matter.

Her hand shot up and when no one noticed, she stood. "H-how can I get one of those?" She asked loudly and dumbly, a bit of color rushing to her cheeks. There was a sickening pause as the puppeteer slowly turned to her.

"Eh!? What did you say!? Is that what you think brat!?" he yelled angrily, "You can just buy a puppet like this in a store!?"

"N-no, sir." She had stuttered, looking for the right words and just going for the most accurate in the end. "Its just that, I would very much like to become a puppeteer..."

And after much convincing, a few tests, and god knew how many rants on "kids these days" the semi-apprenticeship had begun. When the ambassador was in town Kisa would visit him after school and learn the art of puppetry. Kankuro was always tough on her and rarely in a good mood, but Kisa proved to have a knack for controlling the wooden mannequins. That above all else won her his respect.

She was taught to make her own puppets out of wood and metal and, though Kankuro-sensei said she wasn't ready for poisons, how to rig the mechanics of various kinds of traps. Kisa enjoyed building more than anything, she put special care into making her puppets a beautiful as Little Kisa, but there was something about the full-sized puppets that put her off. Maybe it was just that she always felt like she was trying to emulate something she could never reach and didn't fully understand. Everyday, she thought of that man at her birthday party.

Otherwise, she preferred to create friends for Little Kisa out of scrap wood that she saved. The first doll she had made was one that looked like her little brother. She had sewn "Little Jirou's" black smock with too long sleeves out of one of real Jirou's old shirts that she had picked up on a trip home. And when the little black-clad figure had first smiled up at his "neeeee-chan", that ever-gnawing homesickness had gotten just a bit less painful.

After Jirou, Kisa created small versions of everyone she loved. From home, there was Dad, Mom, Kiyoshi, and Grandpa Sasuke. From mom's home in Iwa, there was Grandpa Deidara, Eiwa-san, and Katsura-Baachan. Whenever she was home she would do her best to pilfer some personal item of theirs. She had even snuck into her parent's bedroom one night and snipped a lock of hair from each. If the doll wore the same clothes or had the hair of its "real" counterpart it felt more like they were actually there.

Her private room in the dormitory became alive with the enameled faces of those who cared for her the most, though no one ever visited her where she lived, so they stayed her comforting secret. Soon she went from family to classmates, she carved the faces of those she didn't like to look a bit more foolish and whenever someone made her mad she would make sure that their smaller versions apologized properly to Little Kisa or maybe even received the punishment they deserved. All the while, she continued to excel at her other subjects, including the use of genjustus through Sharingan and other obligatory clan abilities.

...

"Kisa! What do you have to say for yourself!?" Mom was now on her feet. The woman's gray gaze went from her daughter to the red haired puppet-master that hovered beside her, as enigmatic as ever. Kisa could see the question in her mother's eyes, What had Sasori meant when he had said that her baby now _belonged to him?_ That he intended to preserve her beauty so that it could _become true art._ Kisa had been outside when that person had made that speech, but she knew his way of explaining so well that it wasn't hard to dredge up the words and images. She longed to really hear the sound of his voice, it would give her so much strength now. It would give her the resolve to make her parents accept her decision. But when she turned to her love, his silence told her that she must get through this herself.

"This is what I want." Kisa had learned to keep a steady voice, in these recent years. It didn't reflect all the inner turmoil. Would all that stop once she had a puppet's body? Would she be as cool and smooth on the inside as her shiny lacquered skin would be on the outside? She set her jaw as if to pull off a band aid as quickly as possible. "I _want_ to become like the person I love the most."

***cough* oh hey~ You read this far? good job... *cough* so what do you think about reviewing? *cough* I would be eternally grateful~ *coughcough*it might even cure my tuberculosis *coughhack*  
**


	3. Desires

**-sigh- I'm not so sure about this one, I thinks its too long winded and I didn't capture the creepiness I wanted to... I need to work on being more chilling!! Oh well, enough self-deprecation!! I still think that you should read it!! ... If only to give me pointers on creepy!! Anyways~~ Have funnnn~**

"...No..." Mom said breathlessly as the realization sunk in, "No!" She crossed the distance to Kisa's side and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You don't want that! Stop joking!"

"I do." Kisa said said softly and without hesitance, "It's what I've always wanted, more than anything else."

Kisa could see the small wrinkles around her mother's eyes. Small signs of her progressing age. Such a thing made her heart ache, the world was so full of transient beauty. That was why only the things that could remain through the years were called true art. Kisa wished that everyone could walk along side her through that eternity, but not everyone had the capacity to keep a calm mind as time rushed by without them. Kisa knew that she did, she was sure of it, that is, if she could overcome this last trial, if she could abandon the wishes of those dearest to her, she would be free to become eternal. And always, by her side would be her dolls--the reminders of the life she had once taken so much joy from-- and Sasori of the Red Sands, her mentor, confidant, friend and true love.

"No." Mom looked broken, close to tears even. She turned away from Kisa to the slight, boyish figure beside her. She stood between him and her daughter as if to shield her, but such an act was as futile as containing an ocean. "Sasori, Why?" She looked at him not as one would look at the villain who was taking away her only daughter, but as someone who was facing yet another betrayal from a dear friend.

...

"Hey," Kisa remembered asking once, in those first months at Sasori's workshop out in the desert, "What was my mom like?" Even then she had known of the puppeteer's presence all through her mother's odd and occasionally rocky childhood among the Akatsuki. He had even been the one to teach her the art of poison-making, something Mom was known for doing especially well.

"When?", He had asked as he meticulously pruned some small plants with purple colored leaves. They had looked cute to Kisa, but they were indeed a very rare herb, known for the unique effects of their poison. "She changed a great deal as she grew."

Kisa had slowly mulled over her answer, Sasori no Danna, as she could think only think to call him, didn't mind long pauses. "Well, what was it like to teach her?"

"She was smart and very gifted with poison's. She showed interest at a very young age. When she thought the colors were pretty, I told her the composition of a few just because it amused me. I was a bit surprised when she parroted them back a few days later."

Kisa watched the sun glint off his hair and skin. The light danced over those ever-calm features and made him appear so angelic it gave her the chills, yet what truly made her shiver was what that angelic face was capable of. Behind him, past the small vent of light where he grew his herbs, man and puppet hung from the walls and ceiling. Indistinguishable from one another until you focused just a little too hard and something horrifying slipped into your mind, never to leave. A face without skin, a severed hand reaching from a waste jar, a semi-familiar face staring back with the glass eyes of a puppet, These were things Kisa had already become accustomed to by that time, but sometimes she was struck by the dissonance of it all and that same bit of initial horror struck her hard in the chest.

"Did you ever let her see your workshop?" Kisa asked with a steady voice. though she had to look down at her hands, suddenly feeling very hot and cold at the same time.

"No." he replied with finality, "You are the only one I have ever allowed to see my workshop." With that he gave her a slow-spreading smile that started at his mouth and traveled up to his eyes. It never seemed to reach the center of of those round, stone-colored jewels, but the breath still caught in Kisa's throat, those last bits of vestigial horror slipping away. How lucky was she that someone so magnificent would smile at her in that way?

"R-really?" Kisa was glad for the sunburn she had picked up out here in the desert, it hid the blush that had come to her cheeks. To say that she had felt honored to be the only breathing soul to have darkened the doors of the macabre workshop would have been an understatement. "Why not mom?"

"She's too noisy." He had finished tending the herbs and now focused his attention solely on Kisa. His footsteps echoed off the cave-like ceiling as he came a bit closer.

"Hm?" Kisa cocked her head to the side. Her mother had always been an extrovert, but she couldn't imagine her being noisy when she had a job to do. Mom had always been very serious about missions. "Was she rowdy as a kid?"

"I suppose so." He laughed a clear, lilting laugh and touched a finger to her forehead. She jumped a little and almost leaned away from the soft tap."But that isn't what I meant." The fingertip was cool on her sun-heated forehead, his face was a mere six inches from hers. That proximity made her swoon, but her strange new mentor wasn't phased. Kisa even suspected that he would do such things to see how much of a reaction he could get. She managed to hide her look of innocent infatuation behind a stoic mask of disinterest.

"What do you mean then?"

"Even when your mother is silent, her presence says 'notice me', she's just like that brat in that way." By "brat" Kisa knew he was talking about Grandpa Deidara, "She may not constantly challenge the nature of Art, but she can never just exist." He paused and Kisa looked down at her hands again, she wouldn't be able hide her goofy expression if she stared at that face for a second longer, "I'll always be in awe of how someone like your father can put up with it."

"Someone like my father?" She looked up again and saw that he was giving her a very odd smile. It made her feel small and insignificant, like a mouse facing its final moment as it was cornered by the cat, but it also drew her in and made her realize that she had never really liked her life as a mouse anyway.

"Yes, someone like you as well."

"Like what?"

"Someone with a quiet soul." his hand had softly brushed her cheek and lifted her chin, there was something in his eyes that Kisa hadn't seen before. His voice was the merest whisper, only audible thanks to the silence of the remote workshop.

...

"Don't look at me like that, Fai-chan." Sasori's elegant eyebrows lifted into a look of mild unhappiness, "You act like I'm going to kill her. When really," a smirk tugged at the corners of his perfect mouth, "She'll outlive you hundreds of times over." Sasori was somewhat bewildered at how much he seemed to mean to Deidara's daughter. Ever since that indelicate, if somewhat amusing, artist had joined the Akatsuki along with his little girl from a rather murky previous relationship, Sasori had constantly been subjected to their whims and dragged along. He had always thought them to be good companions as far as companionship went, but he called no one family, and nothing came between him and his art.

Though, it was the most happy coincidence that Fai-chan had given birth to such a talented, deep-thinking and exceptionally delicate child. Kisa looked at him over her mother's shoulder, her face brimmed over with that desperate attachment that he so loved to see. Her smooth, dark hair fell in a cascade over her left shoulder while her long bangs curtained over the right side of her face. They framed one large dark eye and a strip of cheek so stone white and perfect that Sasori wondered if he had made it himself. Though he knew that that skin was still soft and impermanent. In the short matter of years it would warp and rot away, something that he could never allow.

He glanced around at the small group of faces that occupied the room. It was the small but evidently prosperous Uchiha clan. There were Kisa's brothers, Jirou, the annoying waste of good looks, and Kiyoshi, the one that had never caught his interest. Jirou had tears running down his insipid, effeminate face. Kiyoshi shared the same look of angry disgust with his grandfather, the traitor to Konoha, Uchiha Sasuke. Sasori would have to watch out for those two, they were the ones most likely to try and kill him in order drag Kisa back home. Though part of him would have liked to take on the two of them, they weren't as strong as Kosuke, Kisa's father, but with his Itachi and Madara puppets already made, he would almost have an Uchiha set. If Jirou decided to come he would also get a Katsura from the deal, though he had always been a bit repulsed by the strange Kekei Genkai, mouths did not belong on hands. Least of all, the hands of a ridiculous overgrown playboy man-child.

Though at the very least, he knew he would have Kisa. This visit was merely a formality, just a small gesture of respect to the people that had brought his precious doll into being. Even if Kisa allowed herself to be persuaded and refused his offer of eternity, Sasori had the poison ready to make sure that she had no choice. It was not often that he wished to turn someone into art so badly, actually not since he had seen the abilities of the third kazekage, but even this was different. Kisa had no ability that would make her particularly useful as a puppet. She was very clever with her dolls and genjutsus, but such abilities did him no good. It was merely everything else about her that drew him in. The elegant way she practiced her craft, the way she never spoke without a fully formed thought, she was not only beautiful, but she was worthy of learning puppetry to the very extent of his own far reaching knowledge. He sorely hoped that he would not have to resort to plan b. So much of her appeal would be gone once that lucid mind had been forfeit to death. Yet, he would have her, no matter what, if only as a souvenir of the great potential that had once walked the earth.

**Hey! You know what makes a great souvenir of potential!? Reviews do!! I swear it's true!! I'm not even lying...and that totally makes sense!! So reveiw right?**


	4. Agendas

**OHMY GODDDD!!! I'm DYYIIINNGG!! School is being a bitch... anyways~ have fun~**

"My name is Uchiha Kisa. It's a pleasure to meet you and I look forward to being your teammate." Kisa focused on the goldish-colored ground and her dusty toenails. The nail polish she usually wore was chipped and her shoes were a dingy gray now instead of black. Her new teammates gave her polite responses and friendly nods but Kisa could feel the undercurrent of suspicion they put off. And who could blame them? Kisa looked about as at home in Sunagakure as a black bow tied to an Egyptian monument. Already, she had realized the reason for Kankuro-sensei's strange clothes and opaque face makeup, she was even considering following suite after her first day traveling through the unbearable sunlight. Kisa had never really thought of herself as a shade-loving forest creature, but as the breathtaking landscape of the desert surrounded her she found herself longing for some really big trees.

She surreptitiously eyed her new teammates; a boy and a girl about her age, Riku and Sunako were their names. They would be her team for the Chunin Exams; Kankuro-sensei said that they were a couple under-achievers that barely made the cut as genin, the only team with an opening she guessed.

"You should be happy to have Kisa-chan around!" Kankuro said in his rough, preachy way, "If you're lucky, some of her talent will rub off on you!" Kisa knew that he was doing his best to help her fit in, but alienating the people she would have to rely on was not the way to go about it. She wanted to speak up and say that she wasn't as great as all that, but it was rude to contradict your teachers.

This set the stage for awkward team relations, it was obvious that Kankuro had only taken a team so that he could get his apprentice ready for the Chunin Exams; he treated the other two with a measure of indifference that made Kisa feel guilty. She would do her best help her teammates, but they often treated her coldly in return for her status as "the favorite". In the end, Kisa felt like there was no one that she could really count on.

She occupied her free time with studying and practice with occasional outings in which she tried to pick up as much news as she could. She sent and received letters from home, though she was always sure to tell her parents that how was happy and surrounded by friends she was. They didn't need to be worried by her loneliness, after all, there was nothing they could do about it from home and she certainly didn't want Mom storming down to Suna and demanding that her little girl get more respect. She was getting respect; she just couldn't make friends was all.

Though, she wished that she didn't have to fight alongside people who wouldn't trust her. She especially feared the higher rank missions that they had started going on as a team. They would soon be in situations where being an individual would get you killed and Kisa knew her own vulnerability. The other two were best friends, always fighting back to back. Kisa only had her puppets as comrades, which she loved, but since she had created them and controlled them, they were as fallible as she was. Not to mention the idea of them getting broken to bits was almost as scary as being killed. They were like her children! What kind of mother would she be if she just threw her precious creations into danger?

One night Little Kisa, whom she had had shipped with everyone to Suna on arrival, was explaining that exact problem to the smaller version of her father. As always, the wise leader quietly listened to his daughter's complaints, nodding sympathetically from time to time.

"That's tough," He had said, his brow furrowing as he turned the problem over in his head, "You should try harder to get along with your team. Everyone can be won over by something."

"I tried that," Little Kisa said, genuine despair in her voice, but she wouldn't argue any further with her father. If he thought that she should work harder, that's what she would do. Dad was the wisest person she knew; he had already faced a lifetime's worth of pain both physically and mentally and overcome it. Some indifferent sand-ninja's and a slightly compromised team were nothing in comparison. "But, I'm sorry that I'm not more likable." Little Kisa hung her head.

"Huh?" The older person looked at the girls sad little face, "You should never be sorry for who you are." He patted her on the head, though, at twelve, she was getting a bit old for such things, "Besides, I think you're very likable, and look on the bright side, even if your team won't open up to you, you still have skills that make you invaluable."

Little Kisa pouted childishly, something real Kisa would never have done, "I still wish that you could fight with me."

"Well, who says I can't? You're smart, figure out a way." Little Kisa's dad smiled, "But you should do it in the morning. Your mom would be mad if she knew how late you stay up."

"Oh, Right." Little Kisa nodded and wandered across Kisa's desk, where the conversation had taken place. "Goodnight dad." The doll said as she hopped down and got back into the trunk where she spent the day.

"Goodnight Kisa-chan, Sleep well." From above, Kisa watched the smaller version of Uchiha Kosuke nod to himself and go back to concentrating on what he was going to do about his ten-year-old son who kept getting calls from strange girls in high school. Being a father was complicated... With a sigh, Kisa released her concentration and his head lolled to the side, all signs of thought gone. Carefully, she picked the doll up and put it away.

"Sleep well, Dad." she whispered.

As Kisa slipped into bed, she couldn't help but notice the grit that pervaded everything; she turned over and tried to banish her own annoyance with contemplation. Was there a way for those she cared about to fight alongside her without being present? When she was lonely her dolls were almost like being home again, she knew everyone so well that their reactions, views and expressions were easy to project onto the inanimate objects. But what about their skills? Was it possible?

Sasori looked around the small room with mild surprise. Last time it had been in some dingy dormitory in Konoha, but it seemed she had changed residences since then. This was neither her quarters within the Uchiha house nor the dorm in Konoha, but a much smaller more cluttered space. A desk was shoved to one wall and a bed to the other. The floor was covered with a mixture of sand and wood shavings. The girl sleeping on the bed looked surprisingly clean and peaceful in comparison to the chaos.

The interesting little Uchiha girl had gotten taller since the last time he'd been around. Her long legs reached all the way to the foot of her small pallet and made it look even smaller. She slept deeply, looking serious even for such a restful task. Her slight figure and pale limbs looked frail in the moonlight but Sasori's trained eye could see the well toned musculature that alluded to strength and stamina. A perfect specimen, he thought, though, was she really worth what he hoped?

He turned his attention from the sleeping creator to her creations that lay all over the room. Her desk was really more like a work bench now that he looked at it. On it were the tools of the trade: a chisel, a lathe, sand to buff the subtle contours of a well made puppet into being. He stepped over to neat line of little earthenware pots. Was she using old-fashioned mineral based paints? His question was answered by the presence of a mortar and pestle, still dusty with some blue powder. Good, the synthetics never stood the test of time. On closer inspection, every one of the tools was closely customized to its user's preference and laid out in probably the exact place she expected it to be. He smiled, happy to see that someone understood the seriousness of his art.

Though, he had yet to get a look at the girl's puppets. The detail that was put into her work station made him sure that whatever she created must at least be worth of a bit of consideration. Surely, she had already passed that talentless idiot, Kankuro. He eyed the three scrolls that were lined up on her nightstand, probably where she kept her finished projects, but he couldn't risk revealing himself so he couldn't even see what seal she had used to store them. What a disappointment, he really hated it when he couldn't get to the things he wanted...

Foiled for the moment, Sasori climbed back into the chest from which he had come. The dolls that also dwelt there were a good enough showcase of her skill, each one looking so much like their real-life counterparts. It still amazed him that she had created most of them before she had even become a genin.

As Sasori settled back into place, a plan was already forming in his head, to someone younger, it may have seemed slow but if Sasori's heart had still been beating, it would have quickened. In nothing but a year, that girl would walk into his trap whether she liked it or not…

He took one last look through the keyhole of the chest. The girl on the bed shifted a bit in her sleep, smiling at some pleasant dream and outside the moon took its slow journey over the dessert. As life left the little doll, someone far out in the dessert opened their eyes. A lone figure in the dead landscape twitched back to life and stood up. The pale light gleamed off their elegant face and no one but the ever-changing dunes were there to see the triumphant smirk that formed upon their lips.

**Reveiw? **


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